Beauty and the Beast
by dreaminadream
Summary: When fate controls your heart, destiny leaves you no choice. It’s no secret we put our trust in what we most believe in. But what about what we can’t explain?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer-I do not own the newsies anddon't claim to,but i do own isolda and any other character that is not familiar with disney, THEMAN!

**Prologue**

Where are the words to say what everybody is thinking? How can a simple conjunction of sounds from the beginning of the days of our ancestors define the lessons life forces down our throats? Those questions have never come so easily even to the mouth that spins golden lies or to the closed heart- as much as we treasure the language of connection it extends only as far as the speaker is willing to go. And now, after so long of staring into their eyes and begging for guidance and the strength to delve back into the very darkest hours of my life (and the very lightest) I am ready to go the distance. To transport you back into a time where I was an unknown, nameless creature hanging onto the threads of this life by lynching reality, ready to blow away with the wind and the internal struggle, the external, and the struggle of New York in those days of mystery and crime- the modern Arthurian legend.

Words will never do the justice each person's story deserves. Yet I come to you, yes you there taking just minutes to grace me with your time, to use the tool of language to cross that bridge between us for a story that I must tell. Nobody is complete until their story has been written down, and hopefully this display of words will give you insight into how life was for me in the winter of 1900, and hopefully you will take the words, just a few, to heart. No, I do not compare this account to the great lessons of life or the novellas of our time- I simply hope I can touch you in a way that I've been touched. It's been said everybody influences you, has left their footprint in your heart and memory- I can only hope my influence is a good one. For after all, are not all actions interconnected? If I stabbed you would you not bleed and seek your revenge, hurting others as I hurt those around you?

I'm horrifically sorry, I fear I'm rambling. It's a nasty little habit I can't seem to break. Yet I will not scribble away any line for it is the truth pouring from my mind into our language, or as close as it can possibly get. Before I go into a tangent that will strain your nerves I must introduce myself, something I should've done from the beginning- Muddles, or as I was so long ago, in a different lifetime and with a different person so now the name is only a gurgle in a whishing well, Isolda Sparrow. Since then I've seen more than most ever will, have removed the typical tapestry on every cracked wall and let myself live more than five lifetimes, have been more ensnared with love than in the great fairytales, have battled shadows and emotion, have lost some and won some. And you?

Some write of happiness and glory, of fairytales and those characters created from perfection, the epitome of the hooded 'bad guy' and the protagonist.

Others write of darkness and hopelessness.

I write of both, of the truth. I write of reality, and what it took for me to learn it. If you are looking for perfect heroes and bad guys turn back now, for you will find none here. I have met the true hero's, who are anything but perfection, and have danced with evil itself, a darkness so deep I did not see its treachery before my very eyes. For there is a little of that golden haired good guy and that snarling antagonist in all of us, for without the light there would be darkness, and without the darkness, there'd be no light.

Some write to remember themselves.

Some write to a capture a time that's been lost and escape the chains of their world.

I write to leave an impression. To tell my story as it happened with no embellishments or sugar coats, to show the raw truth of New York and the impossibilities we all must face, the lessons we all must learn. I can only hope you will be spared of the tragic mistakes I made. I can only beg that it does not take tragedy and every tear that was shed, all the blood that was spilt, to see the light, to see the darkness, the strength and weakness, the ability for love and for hate that resides within us all. Don't let it demand such a price. Let me pay that price for you instead.

Before I go deeper, before I pull on the strings of memory and emotion and take you with me, let me ask you just this;

Can you trust me?

A/N- There was the first installment, this is only the prologue. Please review it, critique it, etc, and please add on to what you would like to appear in this story. I can't guarantee I will oblige, but I'm interested in what you, the readers, want to see. Thanks, and I hope this was an alright prologue.


	2. Chapter 2: The Half Moon Burns

**Disclaimer**- are these still necesary? Here we go again, I don't own the newsies and never will.

**A/N**- I'm pretty nervous about this story, but I hope you all like it okay.

**Shoutouts**

**Emba**- huzza! i'm thrilled that you're reading this story as well, and I hope its okay. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. Thanks for your review, and I hope you keep reading and reviewing. Thanks again.

**cookiegoilforever**- yup, my brain's gone to hawaii for the summer without me too.I hope this chapter didn't,to be blunt, suck. i hope you keep your eye on this story (even if it is summer) and keep reviewing. thank you very much for your review.oh, andIlike your screenname.

There's so much to tell my words are slurring together in a haste to let them all flow before another sun sets and darkness submerges me in its deep embrace. Before I run out of time. Time; it's one of those infallible truths that can not be disguised in illusion; one of those things we can not deny for it will not pause when we are upon our knees unable to go on. It's a continuum of events that are irreversible and it's a hopeless situation when all we want is to go back in time and change everything. Let me tell you right now, I wished that till I was ready to try anything (including hopping on one foot and eating dog food while I pantomimed a carrot) and it still hasn't done me any good. You're wasting your life by looking behind you and for what it's worth, I'm lying if I say if I had the opportunity to reverse time and change everything I wouldn't change a thing- I would change so much. Yet it has become who I am, as real to me as the blood that runs through my veins, a piece of me I can not hack off like a murderer and if anything had happened differently I'm not sure I'd even be alive. In the end life has fallen with you in your triumph or regret though it can not be predestined for at every road there is another to take (sometimes not always the smartest), and if there is such a thing as fate, it is your choice to follow that destiny. The poisonous tribal belief of helplessness against destiny-that was what put me here, that's what led me to begin this mostly out of boredom. But I am getting ahead of myself. I am rambling about what you have not yet heard and I must be forgiven, for I'm hungry and drowsy. I suppose I must begin from the true beginning (though I don't see how there's a defined beginning and I haven't reached the end) and return to the world I thought I left behind, find the eyes that I left to watch over what once was and will never be again. November 9th 1900 was the worst and best day of my life. It was the end to the first monotonous chapter under my name, and the next was to be under a new fantastical title.

Yes, the beginning is a good place to begin.

Her pale face was devoured by the shadows that she was betrothed to, her silhouette a foreign thing, a frail creature of disappearance. My squawk was just a distant echo to her shriek, and sharply I pulledmy fingers away from the candle that had finally gotten the best of me. It seared my finger tip, the skin stretched and paled and vengefully I kicked the candle into the lake that lapped at my bare feet.

"Florien?" I questioned,carefully studying his confusion for an open reaction he'd never give, as I hiked up my skirts and stood. It was too dark with only the half moon and the distant candles to make out what Isabel was screeching about, but in the distance our superior's couldbe seen cautiously making their way towards her.

"Hooligans. Or murderers. And if that may be the case I'll need you to protect me," he confirmed slyly without a trace of a smile, shrugging nonchalantly like these ruffians couldn't ruffle our feathers. Or heads. "It can't be anything more. They either know of poor Isabel's nerves and are takingadvantage of it or she's being whisked away by those knights of hers." I snortedand the shadow of a smile played across him. Poor, poor delusional Isabel. She's really a medieval princess don't you know, and we viciously kidnapped her and took her five centuriesahead in time. I don't even remember when the Luminix found her beaten body in the street, much how they had found me.

"And maybe we'll be having tea with the Vikings," I agreed as he pulled my finger out to examine the small blister. I smirked pompously over poor Isabel, ignoring the unsettling feeling I had. Her scream was a nerve racking one at that, probably howling at the spectacular half moon, but my own tension could not be relieved by mocking her.

"She stopped," I stated blandly and he raised an eyebrow. Her screams had fallen into the quietest of silences and the hair on the back of my neck bristled. It had been quiet before in this night of concentration but this silence was one where awkward words fell, the quiet before a raging storm destroyed us.

"We can rejoice that she did," he said, but he could not ignore the terrible silence. Warily he looked around us; saw the sparkle of candles in the distance that looked no more than dim stars in the night sky. It was just like it was every half moon, when we congregated and mingled with the night. It was his ears twitching that alerted me.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said hesitantly, but his eyes were fixed on something somewhere where Isabel's shadow had been. I strained to see but my nocturnal vision wasn't as great, and impatient I waited, despising relying on him for the information that I craved. How macabre it was to wait in the silence, for this cause of silence, for the screams that were not done.

"Rauk will probably drive her away if she keeps carrying on like this," Florien sighed. Oh, we could only dream. I had no attachment to that girl, and she had none to me, if anything it was a mounting contempt before one of us woke up dead. "Isolda."

"Florien," I repeated, waiting for what he struggled with.

"We better move towards the others. What are you doing all the way out here? I heard you argue with Rauk."

"He thinksme ten feet below him," I said stiffly and he eyed me in that obnoxious way of his. I watched my steps bend and break the grass below them as we ambled towards the others. "My head's not full of it; I know very well I can't do nearly as much as he can, if I can do anything at all."

"Don't be foolish, you wouldn't be here if you couldn't," he said agitatedly and as much as this was true, it had never been proven that I could do anything.

"Thank you for the ego stroke, but we don't know that," I argued and he growled in frustration.

"Don't you think you shouldn't be arguing against yourself?"

"Yes I do," I agreed firmly, smirking before I remembered what had brought us to this point. "I know I'm not as skilled as he is but he should get over himself enough to listen to what I'm saying."

He shook his head, lecturing, "It's not his way, and you know that. It's not in his pride to listen to anybodybelow him, no matter what they may have to say. But mind you, it'll be in the back of his mind even if he doesn't acknowledgeit. What did you...?"

"Say to him," I finished with a sigh. "I had this dream last night, of the half moon burning. I don't know what it means, it probably is nothing at all, but I don't feel safe about it. He won't listen though."

"Of course he won't, especially if he heard what you were saying. It's a bad omen and he'll have none of that. We just got ourselves fixed back up from last time. Besides, he's still angry with you for questioning his judgment in the matter of Harlem," he said and we nodded towards the group that sat a yard away, the only who acknowledged us. Most were too caught up with their own practices to bother with us, most with no patience for novice's, and those that walked past us aggressively pushed by before we could so much as meet their eye's. Not an exceedingly friendly group.

"Isolda," Florien said quietly and I couldn't look at him, watching what two men were doing with cards, focusing on the flickering candles that encircled them. "It's not in them to be friendly. It's not what we're here for."

"Someday I'm going to be able to hear you as well," I grumbled, stomping ahead of him a few steps, infuriated by his constant reading of my thoughts. It was stupid to think of, and stupider to hear aloud.

"We're not that bad off," he reminded me and I sighed wistfully, staring across the vast expanse of open meadow and those that had claimed the night. I was so sick of hearing that- it's like telling a suicidal person a lot of people are worse then them. It only made one feel worse about their position, guilty for their misery. I was a step above that stage though. "We're not going hungry, we've got our own lil' society. It was a lot worse where we all came from."

"Of course it was," I snapped. "You think I don't know this? I'm just day-dreaming that's all."

"It's pointless."

"I know. I just don't understand how we can still sacrifice each other's happiness."

"Nobody wants to sacrifice your happiness, Isolda," he admonished coolly. "None of us have a choice in the matter. Long before you came this was going on. It happens every day, everywhere, especially where you came from. You should consider yourself lucky. It's better than being unmarriageable."

It is the truth. It's the truth that's been engraved in our minds through cruel aunts and their sadistic stories, governesses, and society. I don't know what's worse than being scorned by society matrons as we grow old with our cats. These arranged marriages, they would've become my life as well if I hadn't fallen. Now I've risen in a place they never would've expected, behind a veil they'll never look, in a way I've never imagined. It's what I wanted; it's what I dreamed about as my engagement ring sank to the bottom of regret and deception, a design from the mastermind of stealing a lady's fortunes. But now, now I didn't know what I want.

"Why don't you marry him," I mumbled and his sharp look was the only indication he had heard me.

"Don't forget you'd be dead if it weren't for Violet and Edgar."

"Trust me, they won't let me forget it," I sighed, still hearing their condescending voices in my ears. Not them necessarily, they were too paternal, but the others, the others who felt I was not worthy to be amongst their ranks just because I was younger than most of them, untrained, and still didn't believe in it mostly myself. Belief- what a faulty word. For how can we believe in anything when everything is as constantly changing as the moon cycles?

Speak of the devil…

"Well maybe you should practice at untraining your eye a bit more before you're put on a corner to earn two-bits," a twisted, elderly man grumbled as we passed him. My foot spassed and kicked his whiskey over, and the thirsty alcoholic grass absorbed it. He leapt up, wobbling, as he stared in shock between the now dry ground, his empty glass, and my triumphant grin.

"It was my eye. Uncontrollable you know," I laughed and he took an unsteady step towards me, weak without his mahogany cane.

"If I wasn't bound by oath," he mumbled before raising a hand to deal me a punishing blow and inwardly I recoiled. I wasn't the least bit sorry though, he was constantly harassing me and everybody else and I hadn't forgotten this morning when he had done away with my underskirt, leaving the top that went to my knees in complete impropriety. He had something to prove- my indecency. Despite his old age, he was no more mature than I was.

"Theodore, don't touch her," Florien pleaded, stepping ahead of me and I nearly pushed my trainer out of my way in pure pride, before my arms dropped, deciding I was much safer behind him. Mr. Vein-in-temple-throbs raised an amused eyebrow.

"Mind your place, boy."

"It's my place as her trainer to keep her out of trouble until she can control herself," he recited before eyeing me severely. "And her temper."

"She doesn't belong with us, Florien, as you might as well know," Theo sneered, looking his nose down upon me. I stiffened, preparing for the insults to be hurtled. No, sir, I did not belong here. I am a society girl who fell and is now to be an unmarriageablespinster with her dull aunt,not within a branch of gypsy's practicing exploring their souls, and what dormant muscles in their brain were trained for. I know very well that is true. I have not the patience and I barely believe in it myself. It's only out of respect for Florien and the shelter provided that I am still here.

"Remember when you first came to us, Theo? How untrained you were, how angry at the world after loosing your wife. You wanted nothing to do with us, lashing out at every conceivable moment, a skeptic yourself until you heard that voice. Don't forget where you came from," Florien warned and I sent him a quick look, for he was overstepping his place more than he ought and for the first time Theodore Rollings agreed with me.

"Watch yourself, Mr.Grauls, or I'll remind the young lady where you came from," he threatened and I desperately fought against looking at him, knowing it pained him so. I knew very well where he came from, and why Theodore would think I'd care is far beyond me. It wasn't as if he'd killed my dog, he'd only hailed from the streets in a gang with more harm to him than good could ever come from it. "And as for you, I'd suggest you control yourself before we forget our oath."

"I'll take it to heart, _sir,_" I sneered but his own egotism seemed to overlook this and he coughed lightly, readjusting his cuffs. A hiss tickled my ear, stiffening me like puppet strings and I looked around to find that beastly cat parade itself towards Mr. Rollings' companion, a Mr. Elson, a man who I never heard speak a word in all my four months of being here. I half expected his cat was talking for him as its yellow eyes seemed to convey threats, forcing me a step back, before its tail flicked and it marched its skinny self beside Mr. Elson.

He grinned a gap toothed smile, one nearly black and half missing, his pungent breath beating my nose from feet away and I had no desire to hide this awful repulsion. I felt my lunch rise in my stomach and I fought it back down, covering my nose, showing my distaste for this disgusting display. He laughed a guttural laugh then, from deep down in his belly where all his concoctions gurgled, an eerie and mocking laugh that had Florien frown deeply and Theodore chuckle.

"Are you alright, Mr. Elson?" Florien inquired concernedly though I couldn't understand his interest in this creepy silent man, all he had done was laugh. Of course, being four years my senior he knew things I did not, especially where these lunatics were concerned.

"They're coming for us," he warned gleefully, his beady black eyes widening as he grinned and again laughed at something we did not understand, before turning his back to our shocked faces and petted the cat that never slept. It purred, stretching by the fire and blinked its sleepy eyes up at us.

"Sorry?" I replied, wondering if I had heard him at all and in my puzzlement I turned to Florien for the guidance that I so often sought, but he would do little good. His eyes were glazed with surprise, his shock choking his voice back and intrigued I watched as the gooseflesh appeared on his pale skin. So the old fool had spoken, he probably did lots when we were not around or would not have the company of Mr. Rollings, there was nothing so special about that. I had been warned of him, been warned of his delusions. We were in the company of nothing more than a lunatic. There were a gathering of them here and it should be Lunaticix instead of Luminix.

"They're coming for you too, miss," he acknowledged, his smile broadening as the fire silhouetted the bristles of his beard. "The half moon burns."

I froze; fear captivated me. My legs nearly gave out and I focused upon the dancing embers of the fire to keep my head from spinning. His smile broadened, knowing exactly what I thought of, of that beautiful moon engulfed by a flame with the screams echoing in the void that became nothingness. My bones rattled like they were tap-dancing.

"What are you talking about?" Florien asked kindly, forever keeping his temper and only my months of his ceaseless company allowed me to hear the deep concern and vexation beneath his voice. He was troubled and it glowed brightly in his dark eyes. Florien took a step closer to the man, kneeling down and piercing him with a look that had often forced from me what trouble I had stirred, but seemed to have no affect on Mr. Elson. He winked at him, before returned to petting his cat. "What was that you said, sir?"

"You heard," Theodore Rollings confirmed, putting him in check and gesturing for him to let them be. This was some secret joke between them for the brutal man was not in the least disturbed, only smirking as he fooled us and waved us away. Surely they had just wanted to unnerve me by whispering 'the half moon burning' in my ear as I slept to give me fitful dreams. No, I would not let my nerves get the best of me, would not allow my breathing to come in short, rapid bursts as I'd panic, would not let my nervousness show to Florien through being fidgety and my eyes never resting. I focused upon the man petting his purring cat and stilled myself stubbornly. "Get going Florien, and bring her with you if you please. Or we'll keep her as a pet."

Instinctively protective Florien gripped my arm as that sinister man licked his chops, eyeing me with hunger, something I couldn't place, and I gave him a withering cool look that used to bring men to their knees. He only laughed at me and my mentor forced me away, dragging me along behind him without another look behind us to the cackling men.

"Those sick old men," he growled as he stormed away and I struggled to keep his pace, ducking beneath low branches and hopping above those fallen, skipping around irritated people as I almost ran into them.

"Where are you going?" I demanded, breathing heavily as I barely dodged a man carrying a steaming pot of soup. That would've burned. I almost stubbornly stopped out of spite but my curiosity kept me trailing him.

"To see the elders."

"They're that way," I insulted, gesturing towards the men we'd just left and he looked over his shoulder long enough for a threatening look at my disrespect, and I fell into an annoyed silence.

"To see our superiors," he specified, giving edge to that word, making it clear how inferior he thought those old men to be. I quickened my pace, demanding the purpose of this little adventure, for I knew just as well as he did our superiors did not like to be disturbed. Take Rauk for example, a nasty temper who was prone to flipping tables, and who I'd just inconvenienced with my presence mere hours before.

"I don't think that's the best of ideas," I cautioned, hoping he'd understand me when I could not openly speak a word against them.

"I'm not tolerating this," he snapped, quickening his pace even more if it was possible and I struggled still to follow him for he so rarely lost control. He was frustrated and vexed, nearly growling at everybody who got in his way. "They shouldn't have said that to you. You might not understand how completely disgusting and disrespectful that was…they have a history you know. A history with girls. I'm not having it."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, my naivety getting on my own nerves and he sent me a look full of meaning. I gaped at him, my stomach turning, remembering how they had eyed all the young girls we had passed on the streets, those under the age of ten especially. Quieting myself I decided to not let my disgust show. "And what about the moon burning? What did they mean they're coming to get us?"

"I don't know," Florien admitted quietly, his fingers flexing anxiously. I felt his nerves as if they were my own- he was troubled and if Florien was unnerved there was always a justified reason for it. He repeated, "I don't know. It probably is just their rambling…"

"Florien!" I snapped. He paused in mid-step, almost as surprised as I was by my outburst. "I'm not a child, you don't have to treat me as one, and you don't have to protect me from the truth."

"Isolda," he started, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder I almost recoiled from him but I wanted his soothing voice to tell me it was all fine, I needed the comfort of his touch more than I needed my anger. "I don't know what's happening. But I'm not risking our safety. There was something unnerving in Mr. Elson's little performance, and I don't trust that it was mere coincidence that you had a dream of what he spoke."

A light smile tugged at the corner of my mouth and I was enlightened in the strangest way; Florien had been confiding in me finally, and he trusted my dream enough to risk angering our superiors. That was quite the accomplishment. "You should stay here, if the both of us go on Rauk will only assume you have me under your influence. Stay out of the way and remain hidden until I come back. It's probably nothing but I don't want those pigs coming back for you."

"You are coming back, aren't you?" I interrogated suspiciously and he raised an eyebrow at my foolishness.

His mouth opened but no words tumbled out as he stood agape. I playfully hit his arm for gaping at my ceaseless paranoid stupidity but he didn't stir, staring at something directly behind me. I wouldn't play his game (he'd run off as soon as I looked the other way) and crossed my arms impatiently waiting for a response that he better give.

Something compelled me to his dark eyes and within them soared the emotion that he hid, the rising fear and the silent scream. Within the darkest realms of those orbs something flickered to life, a spark, and then a raging fire. I blinked, looking again, surprised at the actuality of what I had read in books and figured for just figurative- a person's spirit displayed in fire. It burst to life, blazing furiously, the tiny red, orange, and yellow flames licking from behind the shields of his eyes.

A chorus of screams shattered my illusion.

Gasping with disbelief I spun sharply on my heel to come face to face with the beast. It flickered to life, raging out of control, devouring everything in its path like the monster beneath the bed, sparks flying from it and starting new fires nearby in a never ending jungle of flame. The trees came alive with it and danced in the illumination of the red flame, that burning smell gagging me, a thousand fireplaces ignited simultaneously. A scream worked its way up my throat and got lost in the noise; joining the others screaming, the branches falling, the birds squawking and the grass hissing. The dog's barks and whines had me take a step back, nearly bumping into Florien, and we spun in the other direction only to find a mirror image there. He was knocked over still in shock as someone rushed by him, racing for the lake. It was a deep bed of water, and most couldn't swim- I couldn't. Florien couldn't.

"Let's go," he shouted, stumbling to his feet, the fall jolting him back to his senses although mine were not revived as I watched the hungry fire devour and give us back smoke that was already clogging my lungs. He shoved me from behind and I stumbled, blinded from the tears that stung my eyes from the unbearable noise. All those screams of fear and pain, and that smell, that terrible awful smell of burning death. Warm bile crawled up my throat and scratched it raw but as Florien yanked me upright my legs began to move and it fell back down again.

"Don't look at it," he ordered, grabbing my hand and forcing me along, his legs longer than mine and could easily run faster. The heat that flooded between our fingertips revived some of my numbness.

"Where can we go?" I shrieked; panic flooding my lungs, choking me worse than the smoke. Everything was compressing upon me, those invisible walls I dreaded. "We're surrounded. There's only the lake!"

"There has to be a gap somewhere," he cried, shoving me ahead as we ran, the heat of the field flushing my cheeks. "Over there, there's an opening over there! Keep running!"

"Florien!" I shrieked, tears burning my eyes. His grip fell away from me as he turned back. "Florien!"

"I'm too big to fit in that gap. I'll find another way I promise. Keep running! Do as you're told!" he shouted and I let loose a strangled cry as the first tear burned a crevice on my cheek. Determined not to be left behind I hiked up my skirts but before my second step was taken a masked face floated into view. I screamed, jumping backwards, the masked thing hearing me and quickly crossing the steps between us a rope in his hand.

There was no time to scream. There was no time for fear. I turned around and held my breath against the smell of rotting wood and pressed forward, running faster than the wind feeding the fire. He whooped a war cry and his feet pounded the ground behind me, louder, realer, than the voices that screamed in the night. Instinct pushed me forward, screaming alarmingly as I ducked and dodged through the few trees that had not been burnt yet, trying to confuse him, trying to get free.

My next step I could not take. With all my weight I lunged forward and only felt something sharply dig against my thigh and with a cry felt the blood from the small cut warm my leg. Screeching I spun to face my antagonist, expecting to see that masked creature, and desperately I searched for reason for my immobility when he did not appear. Thrusting myself forward that small, nearly inaudible tear of the seams halted me. I hadn't been attacked. I hadn't been caught by a masked nemesis. My skirt had snagged on a tree branch!

I yanked at it, but it was deeply embedded, far away from the hem. My shaking fingers struggled to pull free from it, but it would not break free, I was caught with the fire on either side, and the masked man somewhere out there with probably more. Sobbing openly I screamed at the tree like a wild beast.

"Let go!" I screamed desperately and finally it obeyed me, its long gnarled fingers tearing my skirt and freeing me. I stumbled, falling for my footing but it left me for a risen tree root. My knee hit it hard, my hands breaking my fall though breaking the skin and I fell to the ground with despair- I could not get out of this like the rest.

"Shut up," a sharp voice barked and my sobs grew to a wail. Hands closed around my waist dragging me towards the bark of the tree as I struggled in vain, nails digging into the dirt painfully and I was rolled over and yanked into a sitting position like a rag doll. A dirty hand clamped against my mouth as I was dragged further against the trunk of the tree, my back resting against its hard bark.

I bit down hard on the hand and it fell away, a stream of curses spouting as the hand shook. I screeched, "Let me go," struggling before the hand reclaimed my mouth and as I opened it to bite again cold sharp words stopped me.

"I'll knock ya senseless if ya dare," the male growled and there was no air of pretense; he meant every word he said and my mouth closed without his skin embedded in my teeth. It was a terrible taste anyway. "Ya gonna be quiet now?" he demanded and I paused before nodding, getting my scream prepared. His hand fell from my mouth warily.

"Can't we make a run for it?" a sultry female voice whined stopping the scream and I looked incredulously at a pouting platinum blonde. My eyes instantly regretted it and I felt my cheeks burn as if the fire itself were devouring them.

"It ain't like you don't got em," he sneered and I turned around furiously at being mocked, a bitter pair of hazel eyes greeting me as they laughed at my plight.

"You got them too?" I demanded mockingly and his eyes sharpened in irritation. His mouth opened in retort but a scream broke his attention away, and intently he surveyed the situation at hand.

"They's cleared out to da uddah side by now, Felicity," the boy addressed the girl and she nodded, grabbing a flirtatiously cut blue dress and adorning herself with some clothes. Warily my eyes followed him, falling onto his well toned chest and my cheeks burned at the sight, refusing to follow him down any further. I felt his grin.

"Ya like wad ya see?" he laughed in a sharp New York accent and I kept my eyes on the ground, the safest place. I was well aware I'd tripped over his leg now, or hers, and not the tree root I'd desperately wanted.

"I couldn't see anything," I stabbed, pulling myself to my feet, surprised that I had managed to say anything at all. It was no lie- I had squeezed my eyes tight before given that over share. My cheeks burned again as I took a step away from them before my wrist was clenched tightly. I wouldn't look at him, I knew he was trying to surprise me into looking again and I wouldn't give in. "Don't ya go out dere yet, it ain't safe."

"It's a fire!" I screeched furiously, spinning around and keeping my eyes trained on the sky. "We'se gonna be burned alive in a minute."

"Exactly," he responded knowingly. "And who da ya think set dat fire? Some ain't as fond of gypsy's as oddahs."

"I ain't a gypsy," I snapped and his smirk was amused.

"And I have little manhood," he replied, and it was my turn for bemusement. In the inner workings of his mind his sarcasm worked well, but I didn't hear it quite the same.

"Don't you be laughing, he's more man than you'll ever get," Felicity defended him and the sparkle of agitation shone in his eyes as he pulled on his trousers. Typical male; he'd commit the sin of fortification to whoever was willing, no matter how tiresome they were.

I had no time to reply before he shoved us both from behind the tree, and before I could focus on any one thing we had moved to the open street.

"What are you doing?" I screeched, spinning and shoving the shirtless chest that had appeared and blocked my escape into the inferno.

"Are ya crazy?" he yelled, grabbing my upper arms when I tried to move around him. "Ya go back dere yer dead, ya understand me?"

"Florien," I wailed, struggling away from him in vain, exerting all the energy I had. "All of them! They're going to die."

"They might escape. These types of raids happen all the time, there'd be no gypsy's left if all of them got killed. Besides, the fire starters aren't looking for death. They'll take your friends to the church to repent for their sins."

"They're not my friends," I snapped and Felicity stared at me as if I were a monstrous thing. Gaining some of that precious control I watched as the fire licked at the trees. "What do you mean their sins? They're doing nothing wrong."

"Not everybody sees it as your kind does," the male kindly informed me and I wanted to slap that pompous smirk off his face. My kind; of course so below him in his disgusting mind that probably wouldn't even comprehend half the words I said. I brushed past him roughly as he loosened his grip but he tightly encircled my waist.

"Runnin back in dere ain't gonna do nothing but have anuddah nameless urchin thrown into a shallow grave," he growled, his voice tickling me ear for shivers that ran along my neck and I stilled, before regaining any sense and helplessly I struggled in his grip. The fire rose higher before my eyes and the screams were panicked, I wanted to howl with them but my disbelief caught my sobs. "Dere's a carriage dere to take dem away, and unless you want dem ta see ya in yer gypsy clothes ya bettah get a move on it."

Desperately I looked up into his eyes and in the illumination of the untamable flames they had a life of their own and I searched for answers inside. I received none and looked helplessly back at the borderline of trees, the noise of a struggle coming from within. Florien was in there somewhere, unless he'd managed to get himself free. They all were, and it was not loyal if I turned my back on them.

Just like they had turned their back on me.

My decision (one that changed everything) did not come in a moment of clarity, a stroke of brilliance, or a dramatic cry. It came with a sinking feeling as I lost all hope and gave in.


End file.
